


Ianto — The Woman — Is Pondering, In Bed

by jkateel



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Humor, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-20
Updated: 2011-03-20
Packaged: 2017-10-17 04:22:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/172854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jkateel/pseuds/jkateel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Disclaimer: Torchwood © BBC<b><br/>Spoilers: Set after the novel Torchwood: Almost Perfect (Ianto is a woman).</b></p>
    </blockquote>





	Ianto — The Woman — Is Pondering, In Bed

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Torchwood © BBC **  
> Spoilers: Set after the novel Torchwood: Almost Perfect (Ianto is a woman).**

Having an orgasm as a woman is different: his legs tingle, his toes curl; the build up of release is like his voice — _ah, ah, ah, ah!_ And then it's just like a man's: bordering on wonderfully painful, followed by a wave of euphoric high that leave his chest heaving, nipples sore and his body instantly ready for round two.

"Holy," he mumbles, only managing a word at a time between breaths because he's so high he feels dizzy. "Fuck."

He can feel Jack grinning from in between his thighs and it makes him ache (god, how sensitive is he down there?) "It's nice to know I haven't lost my touch."

"No, no," Ianto shakes his head, his hand and lazing smoothing over one of his moulded mountains called breasts, with little peaks still at full attention. In his first few nights after getting used to being a woman, he explored them with a faint sense of disgust and utter fascination. He hadn't liked them, hadn't like lugging them around, hadn't like encasing them in bras. And he used to _like_ bras.

He hadn't liked his own breasts until Jack had spent more than 20 minutes exploring them with his teeth and tongue and hand, while his other hand curled into soft downy hair below and wiggled fingers about. The dual sensations nearly brought Ianto to tears and his voice to a pitch he didn't know it was capable of.

Jack is shuffling to get to his knees, fiddling with condom packs. Ianto bites his lip in anticipation and impatience. He's been eager for this, though he won't tell Jack that, because Jack will find it utterly hilarious and take his time to tease him until he explodes. And he really, really, really wants to know what it's like to be fucked as a woman. It doesn't happen often as a man (a shame, because Ianto really enjoys it, and it's one of the few things that make Jack weak in the knees), but as a woman ...

They need lots and lots of lube for anal sex and lots and lots of patience. They're both not known for patience (when it comes to sex) and they rarely have time to allocate for it. Not that he's complaining — blow jobs, jerk offs, rimming, _god_ , it's fantastic — but he likes the perk of a body pre-lubed for him. And he's pretty sure Jack will slide right in, like oil on metal; the alien device would have had to made everything down there Jack-fittable (it did emphasise on perfection, after all).

So he's eager and impatient, but so utterly patient at the same time, and really horny and between his thighs ache … When a thought occurs to him.

"I can't become pregnant, can I, Jack?"

He scoffs. "Ianto, we're wearing condoms. Well, I am, at least."

This is a thought Ianto must explore though. "But I can, right? I mean, it would be brief, as I'll be a man by tomorrow."

Another thought; dreadful one, too. "I _will_ be a man by tomorrow, right? The alien device isn't going to have the last laugh and turn me into a he-she?"

"Like a she-male?" Jack asks, eyes skimming over his body. Ianto can hear the cogs turning inside Jack's one-tracked mind, imagining the scenario in all its glory. "Well, it would be interesting for our sex life..."

"God, no." Ianto wants to bury his face into a pillow and not think of the lurid grin on Jack's face. "One or the other. Preferably the other."

But that's the thing. Now that he's gotten used to being a woman, he sees the advantages of it. Pre-lubrication aside, he knows when he changes back, he's going to look at his cock and think of the advantages of having it all tucked away inside. (It's safer.) Maintenance and shoes aside, he's going to marvel at the loss of his naturally smooth skin and his perfect hair and how he and Jack just _fit_ still, perhaps even better than before because of pre-lubrication, so utterly perfect.

He feels tears in his eyes and a nameless emotion in the back of his throat. "J-Jack ..."

Jack stiffens and glances down. Ianto sniffles. "Do you like me better this way?"

Jack's expression softens, in between disbelief and what Ianto recognises as that forbidden word. "Ianto..."

"Don't patronise me." _Hello, mood swing_.

Jack chuckles and points down toward his crotch, at full attention. "I like _you,_ Ianto. Man, woman, green-skinned alien, etc, etc."

" _That_ is hardly a shining example to show how you feel about anyone, Jack Harkness."

Jack pouts, but he isn't annoyed (which strangely annoys Ianto). He takes his hand, perfectly manicured, and kisses each finger in turn. He gives Ianto _that_ look, the look that inspires men to write sonnets and poems and stand outside windows with a pair of speakers and their iPod. It's the look that — despite their stumbling and silent fights and the memories of Lisa and the pain that comes with being a man going on 2,200 years — fuels Ianto's loyalty and _love_.

And then Ianto is laughing, long and loudly, fumbling for a spare pillow to hit Jack over the head with it. He loves that look, but he wants another Jack look, the devilish one with grins and winks and full-blown, lecherous pride because he can make a body (man or woman's) feel things that should be a sin because _it's so fucking good_.

"Well, get on with it," Ianto says, trying to sound bored, but it comes out in giggles. He even giggles when Jack kisses him, and Ianto wraps slender arms around him that he knows he'll remember fondly, along with his pre-lubed body and parts all neatly tucked inside. It was fun, being a woman, and they have all night to enjoy the last of it.

This, _this_ moment, is perfect, because its what he and Jack are: man, woman, or green-skinned alien aside.


End file.
